Oh blimey, this is going to be like the Enemy all over again. Notably furious punk-pop three-piece make their return to the charts with an aggressive song about the State Of Things. Expectations are high, the rabid fanbase are keen to relive past glories, and carry the band's new ideas aloft as if they are the stone tablets on which the 10 Commandments were written. Any suggestion that this is anything less than A Very Important Comeback For Rockular Music are going to be met with furious debate and probably some personal abuse.
Lucky I've just had my skin thickened, innit? Let's DO THIS THING...
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Forgive me for taking the obvious, rather tabloidy approach to this review, but: oops! She did it again. Dame Britney, of course, has been courting controversy with this song and its suggestive lyrics (and if you want to know more about that, it's already been very well documented here and here by Fraser). My job, however, is to strip away the controversy around this song and work out whether it is actually any good.
Except you can't, not really. Because the whole point of this song is to be cheeky, titillating and blatant. I can't imagine the impression was ever for anyone to not guess the 'hidden' meaning in the lyrics (though a few notable commentators were convinced that the song was about Amy Winehouse at first) - essentially, Britney and Max Martin are playing a little game with us. Kind of "I know what I'm saying, and you know what I'm saying - d'you wanna make something of it?"
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Well this is a song with a title that's just asking for trouble, isn't it? 'Magnificent'? Sheesh, why put your head on the block like that? Anything less that total brilliance is heading into super-ironic territory, and I believe that Bono does not do that sort of thing any more.
He also doesn't seem to do finishing songs off properly. Not if this and 'Get On Your Boots' are anything to go by.
Maybe eagerness is no longer his middle name...
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Supergroups...always a tricky proposition. On the one hand, it's nice to see musicians cross-fertilise ideas and try and break out of the limitations of their day job, on the other, just because Artist A is practically a genius in Band A, that doesn't mean his challenging work with the members of Bands B, C and F will be anywhere near as enjoyable for anyone outside of their immediate circle of friends. Too much algebra, you see.
Marmaduke Duke have no such problems, thankfully, as they exist merely to provide Simon Neil of Biffy Clyro and JP Reid of Sucioperro the chance to get their pop jollies and have some fun. And seeing as fun is even more contagious than swine flu (contemporary satire! Whoo!), you'd have to be a hard-hearted killjoy to find fault with this particular collaboration.
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2009 is definitely shaping up to be the year of the pop eccentric. Proper pop too, not just weirdos with uncompromising agendas who claim to have once nearly enjoyed a Girls Aloud song. I'm talking about Frankmusik, La Roux, Calvin Harris, Little Boots, Patrick Wolf, potential pop stars all, despite lacking anything that Louis Walsh would recognise as star quality. That's no insult to any of these performers, by the way, silly old Louis just likes things to be done a certain way.
And that's where the eccentric part comes in. It's important, if you want people to remember who you are, to stand out from the crowd a little bit. For La Roux, it was singing a passionate song in a voice sharp enough to cut cheese, Patrick Wolf makes pop videos that aren't suitable for humans to watch, and Esser sells his songs as T-shirts, rather than boring old CDs.
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I dunno about you, but there's definitely something about any song which gets a short chord switcharound going - four bars, in this case - and then repeats it, which grates on my nerves. It's partly because there's no sense of change, the music starts, loops maddeningly, and then ends, while the poor singer has to try and create tension and resolution, change and progression, out of a small list of melodic possibilities. At least rappers get to switch between speech and singing to break things up.
Actually, another good way of doing this is to have two singers, acting some sort of conversation out to each other. Then they can do little melodic fragments, bash bits and bobs of rhythm against each other, and you're always going to a different place, because you're not relying on one singer's vocal range and their ability to do scales (which does crop up from time to time as a compositional method *stares at certain divas*).
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I had considered breaking out some familiar similies to review this song, like "it's like rain on your wedding day" or "it's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife", but that's not really the most topical gag around, and besides, I think we've had enough jokes at Alanis Morissette's expense by now*. Anyway, it was either those or pretending to be confused about who was performing on the track. "Isn't it Ironik? Don't you think?"
Thank you, I'll be here all week, don't forget to tip your waitress, etc.
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Well, this is a turn-up for the books. Normally a new Eminem single comes with a certain emotional kick, as a guaranteed part of the package. It could be excitement, it could be hilarity or it could be disgust...it could be all three, depending on the song.
For example, I can really clearly remember where I was and what I was doing the first time I ever heard 'Stan'*. Or how funny those early, goofy songs were, like 'My Name Is' or 'Without Me'. And then there were the songs which put a magnifying glass to his personal life, complete with scorching, mum-burning heat ray, or the songs about the media attacking him, and why all the commentators can just stuff off, cos it's all about the man and his fans. Startling works of lyrical genius, each and every one.
So it's a shock to find that a new Eminem song provokes nothing but a half-interested and bleary once-over, just to check if he has any fresh insults for people in the public eye. What's happened?
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Ever had that thing where one song is so associated with a particular title in your head that you automatically assume that any other song by the same name is a cover, however unlikely that may be?
For some reason I was convinced this was going to be a cover of 'The Climb' from No Doubt's 'Tragic Kingdom' album, even though deep down I knew the very idea of such a thing was daft. The same way I half-expected Nelly Furtado's 'Maneater' to be a cover of the Hall & Oates classic, I suppose (though in my defence, Nelly Furtado has since said that the H&O song was an influence in the creation of hers, so it's not like I was way off track...)
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A year or so ago, there were a few bands around who seemed to have all simultaneously hit upon the idea of playing scratchy guitars with no sustain, and making tricksy little twiddles instead of great big power chords. They also preferred to hiccup their lyrics rather than project outwards like Susan Boyle does. Out from the shadow of Bloc Party's smart-indie success they came: Foals, Good Shoes, the Rakes, Mumm-Ra...and this lot. All ploughing similar furrows, but each with their own personality.
(Forgive the massive generalisation, by the way, it's not like there was an actual scene, or at least, not one with a name. It's just funny how a lot of indie bands sounded broadly similar at broadly the same time. Synchronicity, it's called.)
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It seems incredible to think of it now, but before Twitter, Facebook, MySpace and having your own official website, the only way a pop act could communicate the intricate details of their day-to-day emotional life to the fans was in song form, or in interviews. This was a golden age for songs about pop life. Songs about being on the road, songs about leaving loved ones behind in airport departure lounges, and songs about meeting up with new loved ones in hotel rooms.
It was also a time when music journos would spend four or five days with an artist, developing a bond, observing the highs and lows of their working day, and getting them to spill their guts into a dictaphone. Then there would be a tussle with management over which bits could were suitable for public consumption, and bingo! A feature appears in a music magazine a fortnight later.
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Until recently, I never considered the possibility of having to discuss Girls Aloud having to edit down a seven-minute album track to make it more radio-friendly. After all, lengthy album tracks are not the sort of thing that straightforward pop bands do; they make albums where every song should be a four-minute-or-less earworm capable of sneaking its way up the charts. But of course, it's not like Girls Aloud have ever been the sort to play by the rulebook, and so there were raised eyebrows aplenty when people got their hands on 'Out Of Control' and realised how lengthy 'Untouchable' was.
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It seems that, of recent weeks, some of the ChartBlog massive have begun to question our editorial rigour. Comments have been posted claiming that we are deliberately pedantic, that we often neglect to describe the music when we review songs, and that we're not objective. Now, leaving aside for a moment the fact that these are all fair points (and that we're doing it on purpose), can I just reassure everyone that nothing is more important to the CB review panel than the respect of our readers.
Well, nothing apart from pop music, obviously. Pop music and jokes about pop music.
Oh alright, so it's pop music, jokes about pop music, Twitter, Harry Hill's TV Burp, LOLCats and THEN the respect of our readers. You're still in the Top 6, and that's got to be good, right?
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Bassline is one of the greatest hybrid musical genres ever created. Fact. It was one of the great tragedies of 2008 that, despite a promising start with having made it to number one in late 2007 and the mindbogglingly awesome 'What's It Gonna Be' by H 'Two' O ft. Platnum hitting the top spot in January, the major public response was "Urgh! It's just music for kids on the bus."
I don't like to break it to everyone but there's a strong possibility that kids on the bus getting really excited about music with their friends may not actually have less valid opinions on the subject than, say, the musical establishment, who were presumably busy backpatting themselves for still being down with the kids enough to listen to white indie bands making the same noise white indie bands made *cough* "back in the day", and probably don't have to get the bus to work in any case.
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WARNING: this is a sexy song. A VERY sexy song. In fact, this song is so sexy, I'm pretty sure it should come with a rating that says you need parental guidance. Not that you'd want to listen to this song with your parents. At all. Ever. After all, this is the kind of song that'd make you die a little bit inside if you heard your parents singing along to it (especially if they're singing my friend Grant's version, which contains the somewhat more Jo Bro-friendly lyrics "love and sex and marriage").
Bearing all this in mind, is it any surprise then that Justin Timberlake is involved?
(No, is the answer in case you didn't get where I was going with that.)
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What's that, Lily? Are you dissatisfied with something again? Why, that's not like you, chipper soul that you are. I mean sure, you've sung about taking revenge on former boyfriends for being spineless and rubbish, you've criticised your brother for being a slob, you've mocked London for being a cruel place, even in bright sunshine, and you've called out the entire media for being obsessed with trivial things, but that doesn't make you a moaner, does it? Not with a pretty smile like yours, and those cheery pop melodies.
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Hey, this isn't fair, the Enemy! You can't go stuffing your new song with an entirely new list of things which are always cool in music, just as we'd started to get to a definitive collection of our own. You're going to throw our calibrations out of whack, and may even cause a fatal conflict of interest in the ChartBlog Reviewatron (version 2.1), resulting in total software failure and a cloud of eggy smoke.
For the record, the list we had so far included handclaps, whistling, trumpets, tambourines, maracas, and lyrics which include the line "if memory serves". It did not include backwards instruments, looped bass (one bar, preferably), or getting a female soul/gospel singer to wail in an encouraging fashion, about halfway through. And now, with the arrival of this song, we're all just starting to realise that it should have, as these are all very good ideas indeed.
Break open the spanner cupboard, Dr Perkins, it's time to operate.
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I'm currently very entertained by the debate going on in the comments of the YouTube video of this song I was watching regarding the srs bsns of whether Vincent Frank's hair is "mint" or not. I'm assuming this isn't a reference to his alleged use of scented shampoo, although if it is, he's a wise man. Very refreshing, minty shampoo. I'm not even being facetious here - hair is a very important tool for a popstar, I went right off Harry from McFly when he shaved his head. My personal verdict is that it looks fine - not a look I'd choose to sport myself, but one that looks perfectly acceptable atop Mr Frank's head.
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Pop music is hard to do well. You don't get points for effort, the closer you get to perfection, the more obvious the remaining imperfections become, and even if you attain total glossiness and brilliance - which is the global pop standard - if you've hidden the heart and soul of the song you had to start off with, you're still going to fail.
The Yeah Yeah Yeahs clearly know these things to be true, as they've not only added a sleek electronic undercarriage to their rickety indie scree, but they've taken great pains to tone down the wildest excesses of their unhinged racket. There's a time and a place to hit a guitar with an electric whisk until it sounds like a squawking buzzard, and the disco-crossover at pop o'clock is neither.
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And here's the Top 5 in talkywordingform...
1: Lady GaGa - 'Poker Face'
2: Noisettes - 'Don't Upset The Rhythm'
3: AR Rahman And The Pussycat Dolls featuring Miss Nicole Scherzinger Out Of The Pussycat Dolls And The Rest Of The Pussycat Dolls Out Of The Pussycat Dolls (Girl Group Division, Not Las Vegas Dance Troupe Division) - 'Jai Ho! (You Are My Destiny)'
4: Flo Rida - 'Right Round'
5: Beyonce - 'Halo'
Usual rules apply. High five the screen if you approve, slap the faces of the people you don't like if you don't. And then put either High Five! or Denied! in the comments box, depending on how you feel.
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In the interests of total honesty and fairness, this review is an attempt to capture the raging argument that goes on in my head every time this song begins. The pros slightly out-number the cons, but the cons have better weapons and defences. Flack-jackets at the ready? Let's do this!
ProBrain: Ooh! Moody beginning! It's like indie meets trance, or something. That's kind of new, isn't it?
ConBrain: Well possibly, but are we so starved of decent singers that a man who sounds like an unsteady, giggly version of Gary Lightbody out of Snow Patrol counts as good enough? Surely there's a few X Factor rejects out there who could put a bit of oomph into this? That one who looks like a Mr Whippy ice-cream, he was alright, wasn't he? Or that girl with the Duffy-squeak and Eoghan Quigg hanging around her neck? Hell, Steve Brookstein could've had a go, it's not like he's doing a right lot else at the moment...
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What is it with pop stars and being demanding at the moment? Noisettes don't want us to upset the rhythm, Tinchy and Taio are ordering us to take them back, and now James Morrison - a man who is always very polite and friendly in his dealings with people, hence the "please" - is asking everyone to accept the inclement weather.
I mean, who does he think he is? It's part of the British psyche to moan about the rain, especially when we've had a run of unseasonably warm weather. It probably won't do any good - actually it DEFINITELY won't do any good - to rage against the cruel fates which have conspired to ruin your barbecue. But does that mean it's alright for James Morrison to stick his big nose in?
Fair enough, he probably needs his nose to be that size in order to sing like that - it's a resonating chamber in your head, y'know - but still...
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ChartBlog Community College, Easter Term
REPORT
Student(s): Art Brut
Subject: Awkward Third Album Studies/Nutrition
And so as another term here at ChartBlog Community College comes to an end, it is a time to reflect on students' performances and to consider their potential for improvement. It is time, once might say, to review.
Art Brut are proving to be an exceptionally bright collection of students, consistently performing well in classes and turning in some fantastic written work, especially in the case of Mr Argos whose . I would be utterly delighted for the students to continue their progress through the college; with young(ish) people as bright as these the future seems secure, despite the recession.
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A very dear friend of mine can't stand Franz Ferdinand. She's a music fan, goes to more gigs than anyone I know, is constantly jetting off around the world to catch up with her favourite artists and is pretty much single-handedly keeping the indie world solvent, so it's not like she's a philistine. Her problem with Alex and co is that - according to her - they have no heart.
Having attempted to cross-examine her on this point several times, I can fairly confidently explain that it's Franz's arch, art-school scheming which is part of the problem. That and Alex Kapranos's voice, which dances on the border between smug and aloof without ever committing to the kind of wild abandon his lyrics describe.
It's safe to say this song isn't going to do anything to change her mind.
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Gather round boys and girls, it's time for Jason Mraz to entertain us with his wit, wisdom and wondrous wavy hair. Now, as you will all be aware, it's been ages since we forced asked anyone to fill in The ChartBlog Slightly Annoying Email Questionnaire, and there's a really good reason for this, it is, after all, slightly annoying, and some rock stars look a bit tasty, if you know what I mean. No point in getting on their nerves, unless they're slightly annoying themselves, in which case it's an evenly matched contest.
That said, it's always nice when someone takes the time to fill the thing in properly. You will notice that Jason has approached each question (bar one, and that's not even really a question) with far more respect and diligence that an annoying email questionnaire deserves, and for this we should all thank him.
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Hang on, this can't be right. I thought this was supposed to be Beyoncé...y'know, Destiny's Child, Austin Powers, goes out with Jay-Z, can sing a bit...but doesn't Beyoncé always bang on about how rubbish men are? That's her USP, her MO, her OMG, and occasionally - I'm thinking of the 'If I Were A Boy' video here - her LOL.
And yet, what is this song about? It's about being so helplessly in love that you feel like you're sunbathing in scorching rays of pure lovely, only there's no chance of being burned, because you're being shielded by his or her special aura, which offers better protection than Factor 900 suncream and a floppy hat.
So, what's the deal? Is it an extravagent April Fool's gag on the world? Has she had a change of heart? Is the 'you' in the song actually not a boy at all (because boys are rubbish) but a girl? Katy Perry, have you been mucking about with Beyonce's songs again?
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